Majestic and the Talking Draugr
by Chaoboi
Summary: Draugr...brainless morons who desire nothing but death to those who dare to intrude their burial crypts. Except one...
1. Chapter 1

**Majestic and the**

**Talking Draugr**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Skyrim, if I did; Alduin would have been a LOT more epic during the final battle.**

Chapter 1

My eyes sparkled with the warmth and companionship of the blazing fire set before me. It is a fine night in Skyrim, 28th of Rain's Hand 4E 402. I stared silently into the fire as my friends and brother get wasted, chugging down their flagons of mead, sharing the tales of the legendary Dragonborn. The "Savior of Sovengarde", the "Hero of Skyrim", Dovahkiin, in the dragon tongue. My warrior instincts kick in as I draw blade, coming face to face with a female Nord and her companion. I couldn't help but stare her down, admiring her strong yet feminine physique, and her Scaled armour...shiny.

"You gonna' stare? Or be a gentleman and put ya' sword away?" she said calmly, with a strong Nordic accent. From this I deduced that she had spent most-if not all-of her life in this fine province. I then noticed the suppressed laughter from your group, my brother, Hoknir, placing his hand on my shoulder.

"Look, I know you're not as "attuned" in the ways of the female creature as I am, but I think that was a hint to out your sword away" he said with a shine of amusement in his eye and a smirk on his face. I slowly slid my sword into its scabbard.

"I still don't trust them..." I said aloud, your voice showing naked concern and suspicion.

"Well," the woman's accomplice said, his voice harsh and gruff, his face completely covered in cloth, except for a thin slit for his eyes. Now that I looked at him properly, I noticed his entire BODY is completely covered form head to toe, his thin, blue eyes the only things to prove there was actually anything in there at all.

"Aren't you a charmer" the bundle of robes continued.

"Please, forgive them" my life-long friend, Tiberious begged, "A bit slow in the head". Tiberious shot me a sideways glance and a smirk.

"Fuck you" I quickly snapped, though Tiberious was as used to my bullshit as I was of his, and so he simply laughed at the hateful comment. Tiberious, aptly name "big T" was a massive, muscle-clad, stone hard warrior. Not a milk-drinker like the rest of the Imperials, that's right, my life-long "brother-from-another-mother" was an Imperial!

"Please, sit" he finished, showing the new found guests to a log to sit on.

"Would you like a drink?" Maluril, a Bosmer archer (obviously!) offered. "We have water or snow berry juice"

"Anything alcoholic?" the Nord woman hoped, drawing looks, the lookers then looking at each other.

"AHA! Spoken like a TRUE Nord!" yelled Hoknir, before giving a hearty laugh and pouring her a flagon of mead. "What about you?" his icy blue eyes gliding across to the...now that I thought of it, what _was_ he? Breton? Could be with the robes, a mage. No, no, too big. Nord then? But the voice, lacked any kind of accent found in Skyrim. Could have been brought up elsewhere. That word, sounds like "Elsweyr", Khajiit? No, doesn't have a tail. I settle with Nord, he certainly had the cold blue eyes of one.

"I'm quite alright, thank you" he politely declined the alcoholic beverage. Well, he sure as shit wasn't a Nord, then!

"Anyway, Maluril, you were telling a tale of how you brought down two bears, no sorry, three, ugh sorry! FOUR bears with one arrow." my brother asked, mocking the fact that Maluril changed the amount of bears it was every time, when it was in fact one bear, and Maluril didn't even kill it. The fall from the twenty-or-so feet high waterfall did. I should know, I was there. I noticed Maluril's face enblazen with a shade of crimson more red than the famous and ancient dragon Odahviing's scaled hide, burn hotter than the very fires of oblivion itself, as the Nord female leaned in closer, eying him like a hungry Sabre cat would a deer. What was her name? Wait, what _was_ her name?

"What's your name?" I asked, giving voice to my thoughts, yanking everyone's attention.

"I don't really have one," she said. "My father-well, not _really_ my father, but her brought me up as if he were-called me 'Majestic'". Majestic, a name that suits its owner.

"Why'd he call you that?" pondered Tiberious, as Maluril opened his mouth to protest the sudden lack of attention given to his story.

"T'was the name of the ship wreckage he found me in, the wreck of the '_Queen Majestic of the Ocean'._" she started, as everyone sunk into her story like her ship sunk off the coast of Solitude, two-hundred years ago...

**Feel free to review...**

**Goodbye...for now**


	2. Chapter 2

**Majestic and the**

**Talking Draugr**

Chapter 2

7th of Evening Star, 4E 183. Northern Skyrim

My hand was failing me. Feebly attempting to shield my face from the bitter cold. Shards of the snow battering my face. Skyrim was giving me everything she had. Did I want to be out here? No. Did my wife want me to be out here? Yes. Did I have any choice? Hahaha, right...and I'm the next emporer!

Were a bird to fly over this scene, it would laugh at the pitiful farmer trudging across the nothern Skyrim wastes, making his way to...whatever had made that thunderous crash. Living on the coast of the Sea of Ghosts, Fyn knew what it was. That sea was foul. Climbing to the top of a small hill, he was able to get a better look at the biggest shipwreck he had ever seen, there were survivors everywhere! Helpers helping, and sailors drowning. He had to get down there! NOW!

-:-

Water erupted from my mouth as I coughed away the last moments of my life. I was going to die, I knew it. The prophet had said we were doomed to die without an equal gendered team of sailors, but we couldn't find one more fucking WOMAN! I stopped fighting, I knew this was Talos inviting me to Sovengarde. Maybe I'd chat with Ysgramor, share a drink with his son Yngol, and do epic battle alongside the five-hundred companions of old.

"That woulde be..."

The Nord sailer spent the last moments of his life thinking of a worthy word to describe the honour of the acticited he's longed for.

-;-

Fyn paid his respects to the Nord sailor's corpse he discovered next to the ship, he was wearing a rather noticeable ring. '_Majestic Queen of the Ocean' _he read along the side of the ship. He'd heard of it, that ship was supposed to be unsinkable, but after seventy-four long years of loyal service to the East Empire Trading company, it looks like Fyn, an insignificant farmer who was born in Rorikstead, would be the one to bear witness to the end of this legendary vessel. Insignificant...that's what he _thought._..

As he began his search for any survivors, his heart froze and blood curled at the sound of a baby, and it was somewhere on the ship! With no second thought, he immediately set of to find its owner. After what felt like an eternity, he finally found the babe, curled up in the dying arms of her mother, a woman wearing an exact replica of the ring the sailor outside had, they must have been married. The mother had almost left this world, but it was the need, the absolute, unquestionable DUTY, to protect her young that gave her the strength she needed to hold on to life and her child. She used her last breath on an order for Fyn, who by now had needles poking the back of his eyes as he knealt beside the woman.

"Take...her. Keep her..." He waited

"Sa...fe..."

He took a look of grim responsibility before taking the baby girl in his satchel and the woman over his shoulder. He was going to leave her next to her husband so they could journey to Souvengarde together.

-:-

Seven Years Later

23rd of First Seed, 4E 200

Her laughter bounced of off the wooden walls with the same vibrancy and life as her footsteps, her grin wide enough to ward off the effects of even Medusa's stare. Her father, a lowly famer, was trying to get her dressed, but she loved the feel of the cold of Skyrim. She was a Nord, so it didn't bother her. Her linen under-shorts and bra suiting her just fine, but her father had other ideas.

"Get here _now_, Majestic!" Fyn yelled. "Or I won't let you see..." Majestic stoppped in her tracks, knowing what he was about to say, her looks of worry clashing with his looks of victory over her in mid-air.

"Njurik" he said, as his lip curled into a cruel smile. He knew what she thought of Nurik, he knew what all of the girls Majestic's age thought of him. They swarmed him, and adored him, and begged him to acknowledge them...but he only acknowledged one girl. Majestic.

"Father, I keep telling you, you can no more keep up apart than you can nail water to a tree."

"Ah, but if this water's in a bag!" He replied triumphantly

"Gods above, Father."

"Tell me I'm wrong"

Silence.

"Uh-huh, that's what I thought. Now put this on!" He threw her dress at her, and she stared at it, then back up at him, she had that look on her face. Clavicus Vile, daedric prince of deals and bartering, himself must have blessed her at birth. Majestic can get away with paying a mere two gold septim's at a market for something that was ten or even twenty, and you'd know she was going to try and barter when she had that shine in her eye and curl on her delicate lips.

"Father" she said soflty, "can I at least take the sleeves off?" Fyn considered her proposal, and agreed since it would still cover...the "things" that needed covering.

"Ok fine" he said with defeat.

"YES!" She screamed with happiness little seen in this day and age, and by that I mean 4E 200. "Oh my GODS! Njurik is going to _love_ me in this!"

"_She talks about him as if he's the next addition to the nine divines" _Fyn thought to himself.

"Play safe!" he yelled, concern lasin his voice.

"_I have to get out of that, she's almost a young woman. Hard to believe it's been seven years._" Fyn decided to go and see the other woman he cared about, he walked outside to his back garden. His throat drying out and eyes watering as he looked upon his wife's grave. It had been three years since she passed, Grelyn, a _fine_ example of a Nord woman. Majestic worshiped her, and Grelyn adored Majestic. They baked sweetrolls, picked flowers in the meadow, prayed to the gods together...every night too. He was ripped from his memories with the sharp knock of his door.

"Thalmor patrol, Fyn Hujrden, we _know_ you're in there, open up or we _will_ force this door down."

"Oh Majestic," he muttered, tears now freely lining his aged face, "If only you knew why I wanted you to get dressed so quickly..."

**The end of this part.**

**Stay tuned...**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Her heart raced as her breaths shortened into rapid pulses of air. Her head twitching at every sound, adrenaline pumping through her veins. He was never going to-

"Found you!" Njurik yelled with triumph in his velvety smooth voice. Majestic would have his right in front of him just to hear his sweet voice.

"Oh no." she feigned defeat, "Ok, it's _my_ turn to find YOU!"

"I'm afraid I can't, my ma told me to be in when the sun touches the top ofthe church tower."

"Oh" she murmered, this time with real emotion, "will you be out tomorrow?"

"As sure as the sun in the sky." he said with that stomach-warming smile. Oh how she loved that smile, would have done anything just for a few seconds of it.

"OK, GOODBYE UNTIL TOMORROW." she yelled, walking back to her house.

"UNTIL TOMORROW." Njurik yelled back. Majestic's breath left her body for a brief moment as she walked into a wall of scales.

"Excuse me, young lady," the guard looked down at her, an unseen face hidden behind his helmet, "are you Majestic Hujrden?"

"Maybe."

"This is _not_ the time for games, child" he said with coldness in his words, but behind them...a hint of regret...sadness. An emotion the guards of Whiterun hold were not permitted to feel.

"Yes, I'm Majestic."

"I'm afraid I have...bad news."

"My father says to get him whenever somebody says that."

"That's...the problem miss, I'm afraid your father is-"

-:-

"What's wrong with this one, then?" the voice of an old woman said.

"She passed out from the shock of hearing about her father, miss" a much younger woman said.

"And what happened to her father?" the old one wondered.

"He was killed by a Thalmor patrol, miss."

"Elven cocks, think they own everything. WAKE UP!" the old voice ordered with a sharp poke of Majestic's ribs.

"HHAHHH! FATHER...MY...MY FATHER...I HAVE TO SEE HIM...I HAVE TO..."

"QUUUIIITTTE YOU LITTLE CREATURE!" The old woman said, "My name is Grelod the Kind. This," she said holding her arms out by her side, "Is your new home...Honourhall Oprhanage, and I am your new mother.

"You will _never_ be my-" _slap_. Grelod's hand raked across her face, scarring it and turning the pale skin a nasty shade of purple.

"You will listen to, and respect me. Do these things, and you may live to see your next year."

Majestic shot Grelod a look rarely seen in children so young.

_slap!_

-:-

One year later

8th of Sun's Dusk, 4E 201

Majestic the Mighty, Majestic the Mother, Majestic the Marvelous. She was all of these things now, Mighty for standing up to Grelod, Mother for being a figure for the other kids to follow, Marvelous for smuggling them food she'd steal from the market. She had scars on her face, bruises on her arms and still fresh cuts on her back, each a sign that Grelod was not as big and scary as she might like to think. She stood with the rest of the children, as Grelod rambled on and on and on and on...they standing there looking confident, placing that confidence in Majestic, she standing there looking downright hateful.

"Those who shirk their duties will get an _extra_ beating, do I make myself clear"

Kids: "Yes, Miss Grelod"

Majestic: "..."

"Good, now what do you all say?"

Kids: "We love you, Grelod, thank you for your kindness"

Majestic: "..."

Dragonborn: "Aventus Aretino says 'hello'"

Looks of shock adjorned everybody's faces.

"Never did like her, anyway. Well, kids, I guess you're all free now" said the tall Nord in shining studded and Iron armour. A true hero and figure of epicness to these now free kids.

The Dragonborn casually walked out as Constance Michel went off one, screaming over here, running over there.

"Aventus Aretino...you fucking legend" Majestic uttered under her breath.

-:-

She hurriedely stuffed her belonings in her bag along side the other kids who had opted for freedom rather than take their chances with the guardsmen of the Rift.

"Hurry up" she hissed, "They'll be here any minute" The children sped up in responce. She threw the chair through the window and waited to see if anyone would react to it...no one. It was clear. She inhaled deeply, taking in the tantalizing sent of freedom.

"This is it" she said seriously, "we stop for no one, not even eachother."

"Not even eachother?" Samuel repeated.

"Not even eachother" Majestic repeated for the third time in a row. She helped the kids out first, since she was the oldest and strongest, the she hopped out the shattered window last, her dress ripping on the window. Her feet hit the ground and she froze on the spot, a strange sensation shooting up her spine. Freedom. Pure, unburdened freedom.

"Well," she breathed in, "Now what?" she asked herself, as all the other kids had scramble like skeevers. "I guess I'll umm...go for a walk then?" she said aloud, as she walked off, taking her first free steps in her life, bound for adventure across the vast province of Skyrim.

**End here...**

**Next chapter posted tomorrow, as always.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note: Apologies for the delay, lady's and gentlemen, I had some rather time consuming business I had to attend to. **

Chapter 4

My heart raced as the old man looked upon me, his aged eyes scanning my every body part for the slightest sign of error, or weakness.

"Where did you say she came from?" he asked a much younger man.

"Ran away from Honourhall orphanage" the young man replied, there was a cold, feral hunger to his eyes that she did not like. Or did she? She did not know, she did know that she couldn't stop staring into them.

"So you prefer freedom then, lass?"

"..."

"Majestic?"

"..."

The younger man shifted uncomfortably in his chair as the elder looked over at him.

"I think you have a fan-girl, Vilkas"

-:-

Majestic walked down the hallway, following the tall Nord called Farkas, Vilkas' brother, although they looked nothing alike. She could escape Farkas' eyes if she wanted to. As they walked, a low hum of whisperes followed them, as did a rather comical scene between two of the Companions:

"As I 'ear it, tha' new one's go' a "thing" for Vilkas" A skinny Dark-elf said, the war paint on his face twisting with the movements of his mouth, his friend, a tall Nord woman, also with facepaint, looked at Majestic with daggers in her eyes. "Come on, Nadja, kids can dream, can'ey?" The Dark-elf defended her, "Or have _you_ got a...'ting fa' Vilkas." Nadja, better known by her nickname, "Stone Arm", glared at the Dunmer, called Athis, with even more daggers than she did Majestic, and the dunmer returned them, "If you wan'o se'le 'dis, let's take it to da' yard" he threatened. With that, they left.

"Here we are, short stuff, this is where the new-bloods sleep." said Farkas, his voice deep and gruff, nothing like Vilkas's velvety smooth voice. She glared at him for her new nickname, then frowned at "new-bloods". This was like a tribe of Barbarians! And she _loved_ it! "We've spoken to Kodlak (she assumed "Kodlak" was the old man) about your paymen', he says beds are part of it anyway, so you'll be gettin' money on the side, too" Farkas continued. "Come to me or Aela, she's over there, by the way" he pointed to one of the most hard-core women Majestic had _ever_ seen! Like a statue, Aela stood againt the wall with her arms folded, stone cold, and equally stoney eyes glaring at Majestic. What _is_ it with the people and GLARING!? -"if you're lookin' for work, Skjor and Vilkas might have somethin' for ya' when you move up the ranks". Her heart disobeyed her orders to keep quiet and leapt at the sound of Vilkas's name, such to the point that she forgot who the other man (or woman for all she knew) was entirely!

"Understand?" Farkas questioned.

"Oh, uhh...yes?" Majestic said uncertainley.

"Aww...you were fantasizing?" Aela said quietly into her ear, making her jump. How the Oblivion did she get over here so fast?! "Ha, ha ha ha" Aela gave a laugh as cold as her exterior, "I'm not mocking you, little one, I think it's cute. A kid _can_ dream, can she not?" Farkas stepped in to help Majestic as soon as he saw the red hue exploding onto her cheeks.

"Aela, I've been given a job that I think you might enjoy" Farks said, returning Majestic's thankful gaze.

"Oh?" Aela sais with animalistic curiosity, tearing her gaze from her new prey, to the hulking Nord standing before her. "And what would that be?"

"Some poncy little whelp from the Rift has asked for us to clear out his yard of racoons" Farkas said, knowing he had Alea by the ears, no dog pun intended. Aela's eyes shined with new life as her lips opened slightly.

"Farkas, you _know_ I have a weakness for hunting, and you use that to your advantage and put this job on me?" she said innocently.

"In a nutshell, yes. I could give it to Athis, or Nadja if you'd-"

"Unnecessary," Aela interupted, "I'll do it"

"Ok, then," Farkas said, "You should get some shut-eye, Majestic, you don' wanna' be here when Aela gets back."

To the Rift and back in one night? Impossible! For someone who isn't a Werewolf...

**This chapter is done.**

**Message for the guest who posted the follwing review:**

**"NICE**

**Update or Die"**

**On the 8th of August 2013**

**Get in line...**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Ten Years Later...

5th of Sun's Height, 4E 211

Majestic is twenty years old

"Majestic, look out!" Vilkas yelled with fear as the Draugr's Sword almost gave her a haircut.

"That wasn't _fear_ was it, brother?" Farkas wondered as he dug his claymore into another Draugr's neck and decapitated it, though he knew it was fear and why it was there.

"Look out yourself!" Majestic yelled back to her on-and-off lover, a third Draugr swinging its battle axe for Vilkas' waist. She wasn't looking at him, but at the Druagr. Since being with him and breaking up multiple times over the years, she had learned how to resist his crystaline eyes. Vilkas stepped back to avoid the first blow, pivoted on his waist and swooped under the second, coming up with the Draugr now behind him, and had his shield covering his back to absorb the third. He then flicked his shield over his head, causing the Draugr's arm to fly upward, leaving the creature open for Vilkas to shove his Skyforge Steel sword through it rusted armour and decomposed chest with the blade coming out the other side, extinguishing the monster's life.

Farkas witness his brother's amazing speed despite wearing the heavy Companion Wolf armour as he hacked a Draugr's leg off and gave it a clean swipe across the neck while it was on the floor. Over the years, Majestic had learned that Farkas had an affinity for going for the neck, but this didn't matter since another Draugr had joined the party.

"UNSLAUD KROSIS!"

"I'm SORRY," she said with a thrust of her sword, "I don't SPEAK," she said as she followed through into a kick to the chest, pulling her sword out of its waist, "UGLY" she finished with a three-sixty spin, her sword sliding through the Draugr's neck like a knife through Scrib Jelly.

"'Don't speak ugly'? I may have to use that one sometime" Vilkas said, with a grin.

"Hey! *puff* That's my *puff* line" Majestic breathed heavily, "I said it *puff* first"

"Fair point" Vilkas said, stepping closer to her, "But who's to stop me saying it when you're not around?"

"You know as well as I do that Kodlak knows about us" she said, folowing suite as Farkas rolled his eyes.

"So?" Vilkas whispered.

"He sends us on missions together, when was the last time I wasn't your shield-sibling?"

"Two days ago, when I had to defend a farm against a giant with Aela."

"You were gone for ten minutes, that doesn't count"

"Well in that case," he said, playing along with her little game, "A few months back, when me and-"

"Oh shut up."

"But-mfff!" Vilkas' shock was supressed as her lips met his.

"Hey, hey, hey" Farkas interupted, as usual, "We're the Companions, not the _wimp -_anions" he continued pulling them apart. "Besides, the old man only let you two...you know, because he respects you enough, it's my job to-

"Make sure we don't-" Majestic inturupted

"-Get carried away" Vilkas carried on drearily.

"Exactly" Farkas finished. "C'mon, let's go home"

"Agreed" Majestic and Vilkas said together.

The next attack was so different to the rest, so much more quieter, more stealthy, more unforseen that Vilkas didn't even know the Draugr was there...until its sword burst through his chest.

"VILKAS!" Majestic screamed.

"BROTHER!" Farkas yelled.

"NOOO!" They both shouted.

"HAHAHAHA" The undead creature laughed, as Vilkas's whole world went dark...

**More of this soon.**

**Goodbye until then...**


End file.
